


525,600 Fragments

by acta_est_fabula



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temporary Character Death, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:33:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acta_est_fabula/pseuds/acta_est_fabula
Summary: "This is...well, think of it as a second chance of sorts. You’re not dead, oh no. I am no ruler of the Underworld, though I’ve come across Lucifer several times. He’s dreadful to have at tea parties.” The idea of having a tea party with literal Satan is so farcical that Dream lets out a snort of laughter. “But I digress.“I’m sure you’re aware of the concept of limbo, yes?”Dream replies with a nod just as George asks, “You mean the game that we’d play in primary school, where you try to sneak under the bar that keeps dropping lower and lower?”“George, what the hell!” Dream groans, face heating up from second-hand embarrassment.“What? It’s a valid question!” The noirette shoots back, turning to glare up at him. “That’s the only limbo I know--is there another one?”or, the DnF Reincarnation Fic where they live out many-a-lifetimes, hoping for the best.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Karl Jacobs, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound, GeorgeNotFound & Karl Jacobs
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	525,600 Fragments

**Author's Note:**

> I usually don't write ship fics, but since both CCs gave consent, figured I'd try my hand. Loosely inspired by akhikosanda's fic, [careful fear, dead devotion.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20465192?view_adult=true#children) . Feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> I make Dream SMP analysis/HC vids at [here.](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC4BbrgaPMd56C-ZK8q1WpEg) Come check it out (support is appreciated). Follow me on Twitter at [ here.](https://twitter.com/Septetz) Happy reading!

The first thing that Dream realizes when he wakes up: he’s cold. Freezing actually. Whatever surface he’s lying on, it’s extremely uncomfortable and seems to be sucking the warmth--no, his very lifeblood--out of him. The blonde sits up, fingers scrambling on the ground for a perch to get a solid grip on-- well, anything.

The second thing Dream realizes is he’s back in his traditional garb. He’s adorned in his familiar, slightly-torn green hoodie along with ripped jeans and scuffed shoes, which is odd, seeing as those articles of clothing were confiscated from him when he’d been placed in the prison under Sam’s watchful eyes. The warden didn’t trust the hooded trickster, with good reason of course. The hybrid took his job very seriously, and it wouldn't be prudent if he allowed the other man to slip in an errant tool or weapon to aid him in any future escape attempts. Not that it would be worth the effort to try to sneak his way out anyway. He and Sam had spent many-a-hours laying down the foundation and blueprints for the daunting building, covering every possible escape route and option. It was foolproof; it made any regular prison look like a pair of plastic handcuffs in comparison.

The third, and most important thing, Dream realizes, is that he can see. As in, see properly. Normally, it’s somewhat difficult for him to be able to make out all of his surroundings, seeing as the eye slits in his mask are quite narrow and aren’t the most permeable for light. Said mask, with its signature crudely drawn smiley face and elastic strap, doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight as he drinks in his surroundings. A singular, withered rose stacked neatly on top of a block of granite meets his gaze as he turns his head, letting a slight moan of pain at the crick in his neck. Must’ve been knocked out at least a couple of hours if his joints are aching that much. 

What appears to be some church-esque building greets his eyes, not unlike the much smaller Church Prime. Six large columns of marble and quartz support the large structure, with various smaller engravings lining the walls. The whole temple reeks of pristiness, from the stretching slanted rooftops to the slippery translucent glass floor. It’s kind of eerie to be honest, almost downright creepy. He strains his ears, but the lack of any noise is another oddity in the growing list of abnormalities.

_Waking up in an unfamiliar place with no recollection of how I got here, in clothes that I shouldn’t have access to but just so happen to be missing the signature part of the outfit that obscures my identity. Also, said unfamiliar location looks like some cultist hideout, with no living being in the vicinity. Maybe I’ve actually lost it in that prison._

To punctuate that sentence, Dream raps his knuckles against his forehead. Maybe this is some kind of dreamscape or delusion that he’s dredged up. Unfortunately, judging by the dull throbbing in his temples and his faint amusement, this very much is still reality. 

“Might as well check out my surroundings a bit. I’ve got to figure out a way to leave this place somehow,” Dream mutters to himself. Ignoring the stiffness in his joints, he stands, making a face at the sudden rush of pain. He’ll shake it off though, once he gets moving. Likely just due to a lack of proper blood circulation in his body. 

Wherever this area is, it’s breathtakingly beautiful. As he steps past the withered rose and heads out into the open, a steep staircase appears as he makes a right. Lanterns and fires provide sources of light throughout the halls, though it’s a bit unnecessary, seeing as the whole area is so bright that it’s enough to make him go blind. At the end of the staircase, the blonde can make out the base of a birch tree. And for the first time since the short time he’s been here, Dream can hear something--a rigidity, creaking sound, coming from the left hallway. 

His heartbeat quickens. _Is somebody else here? Who? Are they hostile, or kind? Are they the ones who left me here? Where exactly is ‘here’?_

Seeing as there’s no way to get the answers to those questions without venturing forward, Dream dashes down the steps, taking them three at a time. Veering to the left, another long passageway greets him. This one has a few more potted plants on the left, placed neatly in front of stained-glass windows that don’t really allow him to see much of the outside world. The most he can make out is a smatter of orange and yellow hues, which he presumes to be clouds being lit up by the sun. Another mystery, one that Dream files away to ask about when he gets the chance. 

The end of the hallway brings him into an open courtyard of sorts. Pillars upon pillars surrounds what looks to be another birch tree, though this one seems to have crystalline leaves rather than the standard leafy green ones. He stands there, drinking in the odd, otherworldly sight in. The tree is beautiful, no doubt about it, but it feels alien to the point of supernaturality. Like a polished science experiment researchers would present at some pompous exhibition, patting themselves on the back, all the while remarking, _Yes, this is the fruits of our research. Our little experiment that’s grown into this._

A bit too sterile for his liking. 

As Dream moves his gaze down, he’s startled to see a familiar face looking back at him, a small grin on his face as he waves his hand in greeting. 

“Hello there!” Karl calls cheerfully, legs dangling inches above the grass, moving in rhythm with the swing he’s comfortably seated on.

“Karl?” Dream asks in disbelief. “The hell are you doing here?”

The other man peers at him with no small amount of scrutiny. “Oh, I’m not exactly Karl. Well, not the one you know at least, though we share some of the same memories. Actually, scratch that, I’m not Karl.” The brunette pauses, fiddling with the wooly strings of his hoodie. Dream blinks. _Had it always been that shade of white and grey?_ “Yeah, that sounds about right. I’m not Karl.”

_What?_

“Okay, so who are you then?” He asks confusedly. 

A dismissive arm sweep. “If I were to list all my titles and names that I’ve acquired throughout the millennia that I’ve existed, we’d be here for ages. Maybe even centuries.” Not-Karl tilts his head thoughtfully. “If you really want another name to call me by, you can call me the Lorekeeper, or He Who Is Amazing, Graceful, Handsome, Aweso-”

Dream raises his hands. “Okay, okay-- I got it. Not-Karl it is.” He surveys the pale, bone-white tree again, the leaves twinkling at him like they’re divulging some kind of secret between the two of them. “So, where is this exactly?”

“Oh, this? This is my home. Well, as much as any other place that can be deemed as a home. It’s called the In-Between. Do you like it? It’s been so long since I’ve been able to talk properly and hold a face-to-face conversation with somebody!” Not-Karl beams at him, not unlike a child looking towards their parent for some form of praise or approval. “Your friend, Karl was it? He visits here irregularly, and I doubt he ever has the intention of actually ending up here. But seeing as he’ll have time to figure out things since he can come back and visit, instead of directly telling him about the secrets of the In-Between, I’ve just left him a small trail of clues to help him figure things out. It’s so much more entertaining than just handing him the answer on a silver platter, don’t you think?” 

Privately, Dream thinks that knowing the mysteries and inner workings of something is much better than having to scramble and find out for himself, but he doesn’t say that. Aloud, he says, “That doesn’t quite answer the question. Where exactly is this ‘In-Between?’ How did I, of all people, end up here? _Why_ am I here? How’d you manage to get me out of Pandora’s Vault? And again, why would you bring me to this place?” 

The words slip from his mouth in a stream, nearly tripping over one another in their haste. He’s breathing heavily by the time he’s done, panting from lightheadedness and exertion from forcing the questions out all in one breath. Likely due to the fact that he’s been imprisoned so long; he hasn’t had a proper conversation or nourishment in ages. The last person who’d visited was Tommy, and that’d been weeks-- or was it months? Sam never deigned to speak to him, not so much as a hello or greeting when delivering his meals to him. Dream had even destroyed his clock a couple of times to see if it would elicit a reaction from the other man, but the stony silence that the warden brought him was unflinching and unyielding-- not unlike the ironclad baton he carried with him at all times. 

“Slow down there, let’s take them one at a time, yes?”

Dream exhales. “Right, sorry.” He forces himself to take a few, shaky breaths, trying to control the racing of his heart. Sweaty palms are rubbed against the rough texture of his jeans, fingers catching at a tear below one of the pockets. _It’s really fucking weird how accurate this replication of my clothing is._

“The In-Between is a place that not many mortals or unearthly beings are permitted to enter,” Not-Karl begins. “I could explain all the semantics and give a full breakdown of it, but it would take far too much time. Plus,” and here, the brunette shrugs, a mop of curly hair bouncing as the swing comes to a halt, “I’m sure that much of it would go over your head. It’s not that I doubt your intelligence. It’s just that well, to put it bluntly, not even I know everything about what this realm has to offer-- and I am the keeper of these grounds.

Essentially, the In-Between is a convergence of temporal, chrono-lines: a writhing mass of timelines bundled up and given its shape by me, the Lorekeeper. The reason why it appears the way you perceive it is because I chose to give it this appearance. The best way I can describe this world is to think of it as the regions between the ticks of a spherical clock: it’s different from a regular time-telling device because it accounts for more than the mere two dimensions. Does that make sense?”

“...kind of?” 

“Great!” Not-Karl claps his hands, looking pleased. “Good on you. You catch on quickly. As for your other questions, I think we ought to wait for our other guest to arrive before we delve any further into our conversation.”

_Other guest?_

“And who,” Dream begins slowly, “exactly is this other person?” He’s not sure if he can handle meeting a new person while he’s still trying to wrap his head around an interdimensional domain that’s a result of multiverses colliding and forming a palace of sorts, all of this being explained by some god-like deity that claims that he’s not one of his former closest friends, but just so happens to wear his face and mimic his speech patterns. The blonde grimaces, face twisting into a scowl. _Yeah, I’ve definitely lost it._

“Oh, you’ll recognize him.” Not-Karl frowns, puckering his lips. “After all, the two of you are bound together by the threads of fate.”

“Who are you talking about-?”

“Dream?”

He freezes, then turns on his heel so quickly that he nearly gives himself whiplash. Standing behind him is George, mouth half-open in an exclamation of surprise. 

“Dream? What are we doing here?” The shorter man hesitates, cheaply made sunglasses dipping as he looks around. “Are we...dead?”

For a horrible moment, Dream allows himself to think about the implications of that statement. Is this some kind of bizarre afterlife hallucination that’s been placed upon him? Or some nightmare he’s dredged up?

“Oh, enough of that,” Not-Karl says dismissively, standing for the first time since their impromptu meeting. “You’re not dead. Well,” he amends, “not yet at least.”

“What does that mean?” Dream demands, whirling around to glare at him. “We’re ‘not dead yet?’”

Not-Karl sighs, and for the first time, Dream sees through the carefully put-together, cheerful persona the deity has slipped off, as if it’s no different than an article of clothing or a particularly fancy accessory. Emerald eyes, churning with emotions that Dream can only describe as wisdom and regret, meet his own. 

“This is...well, think of it as a second chance of sorts. You’re not dead, oh no. I am no ruler of the Underworld, though I’ve come across Lucifer several times. He’s dreadful to have at tea parties.” The idea of having a tea party with literal _Satan_ is so farcical that Dream lets out a snort of laughter. “But I digress.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the concept of limbo, yes?” 

Dream replies with a nod just as George asks, “You mean the game that we’d play in primary school, where you try to sneak under the bar that keeps dropping lower and lower?”

“George, what the hell!” Dream hisses, face heating up from second-hand embarrassment. 

“What? It’s a valid question!” The noirette shoots back, turning to glare up at him. “That’s the only limbo I know--is there another one?”

“Limbo is the state of being between Heaven and Hell, where you haven’t committed any actual sins to be damned, but you haven’t been liberated from the sins that James-? Joseph? Oh right, Jesus, that’s the one! Yes, the sins that Jesus died for. Those ones haven’t been lifted yet. The actual explanation is a bit more complicated than that, but it’ll suffice for now, and tends to be more in-line with what you’ve mortals come up with.”

“So...this is limbo then? I thought you said we weren’t dead!”

“Psh. You haven’t let me finish explaining yet. You’re stuck in limbo, not the religious limbo, but existential limbo. Basically, the gist is you--and all your friends mind you--are trapped in an endless cycle of life and death. Frankly, it’s quite depressing to watch it play out over and over again, so that’s where I step in. Your bodies aren’t really here, but your heart, soul, and consciousness are. In other words…”

“This is like a dream then,” Dream finishes. George groans aloud at the inadvertent pun, the blonde winking at the colorblind man with a feral grin. Some things just don’t change, regardless of time or setting. 

“Or a nightmare,” Not-Karl pronounces solemnly. “How it all plays out is up to the two of you.”

“So what exactly are we trying to do?” George’s voice is both bewildered and cautious.

“I’ll be sending each of you off to separate timelines to live out your various lives across the many timelines you lot reside in.” Not-Karl hesitates, before continuing softly: “Do your best not to die.”

A wave of fear and apprehension washes over Dream. “What do you mean by that?” He asks, trying to keep his voice steady.

The Lorekeeper toes the ground before his eyes sweep over the pair, assessing them. “Every timeline, every chronal plane is different. In some instances, you’ll be the closest of friends, possessing the steadiest of bonds. And in other instances, you might be on the opposite sides of the battlefield, waiting to tear into each other. It all depends on the thread of fate you find yourself strung to in that particular instance. The only thing is, you won’t retain any of the memories of the experiences you’ve gone through in each of the separate timelines. So the key to solving this entire spectacle,” his arms fling out, spread placatingly, “is to try and live through the entirety of a life.”

“Why us?” Dream asks softly. “There are plenty of other people to choose from, even if it’s merely contained to people within the SMP boundaries. What makes us so special?”

“Why I thought that’d be obvious,” Not-Karl replies, and that faint note of amusement is back, sounding much more like the chipper version of himself not an hour ago. “It’s quite obvious the two of you care about each other as friends, isn’t it? The difference between you and that anarchist along with his aviary friend is that this one,” he points to Dream, “hasn’t been able to find peace or quietude. You’re quite the rabble-rouser aren’t you? None of these lifetimes has resulted in a happy ending for either of you.”

Dream opens his mouth to splutter out a half-hearted protest, but then he remembers that he is locked in Pandora’s Vault for a reason. He makes a face instead, letting out an indignant harumph.

“What if we just don’t do anything?” George questions, stepping forward to get a better look at the alabaster tree. “What if we just, you know, stay here? Just don’t move? I’m content to just wait it out. You can’t keep us here forever, can you?”

“Do you really want that for yourselves? You might have full use of your senses and your body here, but at the end of the day, it’s just a projection of your psyche. Will you really choose a half-life for yourself, one free of your friends and responsibilities? Is that really any way to live?”

The questions stab at him, pointed and vicious. He’s tempted to agree with his best friend on this one; it doesn’t sound so bad to reside in this sanctuary for the rest of his life. It’s far better than the prison at least. But then he thinks about the things he’s yet to carry out, or finish what he started with Tommy and the others. And that’s enough to steel his resolve.

“George,” Dream begins. “Let’s at least give it a try, before we give up. It can’t hurt, can it?” The question’s directed towards Not-Karl, who perks up. 

“If you die, there won’t be any real lasting consequences. You’ll just end up back here, but with your memories of every single time fragment you’ve lived through. Your memories from each timeline won’t carry over to the next, but the In-Between serves as a nexus of sorts, where you’ll be able to recoup before trying again.”

“Then I suppose the only route left to us is to press forward then, isn’t it?” Dream asks sardonically. “How do we choose to travel to these timelines?”

“I can solve that for you.” Karl moves to pat a swing. “Just sit here, and let me handle that part.”

With a shrug and a skeptical look, Dream hurries to sit on the wooden seat, feeling like he’s a mere child again, waiting for his mother or father to give him a push. Simpler times, really. 

“Alright, you ready?”

“...yes.”

“Right. Here we go then!”

A snap of fingers and Dream’s vision blurs, the beautiful palace of the In-Between blurring into nothing more than a white smudge within his field of vision. He closes his eyes, breathing in, trying to steady himself, before he opens his eyes to feel himself falling into a vast sea of darkness.

  
  



End file.
